


Sweet Tooth

by glacis



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urgo gets an urge.  Tasty!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Tooth

Sweet Tooth, Stargate SG-1 fluff inspired by the irrepressible Urgo.

 

Pie. Never in his entire forty five years had pumpkin pie been so inexpressibly delicious. Then the doc had found the baby ball bearing bouncing around in his brain, and suddenly it was just pumpkin pie again. _He_ wasn’t the one having a pumpkin pie high. He was just the dummy with the alien’s hand stuck up his … whatever.

The thought did not make Jack O’Neill a happy camper. The thought that his entire team was experiencing his food cravings like an expectant daddy sharing phantom labor pains didn’t do a hell of a lot for him, either. Made him grumpy. Didn’t help the general’s disposition either. They got quarantined.

Then Urgo showed up. Literally.

To them, anyway. Not to the SP who did a fine job of not letting the fact that a full bird had just gone loony on him upset his professional demeanor. To make a bad situation worse, once Urgo did show up, he didn’t know how to _shut_ up. Goody, goody.

What had Daniel been saying about fool’s paradises and wise men’s hells? Jack had the sinking feeling he was stuck in hell. His mind flashed back to the deceptive picture of beach heaven they’d seen on the lying computer. What he wouldn’t give to be in Maui bikini-watching at the moment. Urgo opened his mouth. Jack glared at him. Urgo blushed.

Jack sighed.

The craving for pie hit again, but his stomach was a little queasy from the last two pounds of sugar he’d scarfed down, and he looked around desperately for distraction. His nose twitched. Cinnamon, and spice, and everything nice. There was a smear of it on Carter’s lower lip.

He was licking it off before it dawned on him that he’d moved.

She tasted good, too. Sort of sweet and a little like coffee and a lot like jello, which went surprisingly well with the pumpkin. She squeaked, which opened her mouth a little bit, and he accepted the not-quite-invitation with the gung-ho attitude that had earned him his rank on the early side and gotten his balls busted more often than he cared to remember.

"Colonel!"

Well, that hadn’t been Carter. Couldn’t have been, he still had his tongue in her mouth. Besides, she wasn’t a baritone. He peeled one eye open and stared past the bright red skin of Sam’s cheek.

General Hammond did not look happy.

Jack managed to reel his tongue in, with some difficulty since Urgo was apparently thoroughly enjoying piggybacking onto _that_ experience, and unlock his lips from Carter’s mouth. She looked a little dazed. Kinda like he felt.

"Sorry, general." Jack tried real hard, but sincerity was a hard sell, and it was a tough crowd. "Got hungry. Needed pie. Carter was closer."

"Pie sounds good," she parroted back. Without another word she slipped past him and the glaring general, heading at a good clip toward the mess hall. Not being a slacker when it came to pie, and not wanting to make the explanations Hammond was waiting to hear, Jack shrugged a shoulder, raised an eyebrow, and took her six.

He was still hungry. If he couldn’t have Carter, pie would have to do.

 

A silent disappointed sigh seeped through the corridor. Now, that had been sweet. Not long enough, but a nice, complex, anything-but-boring taste sensation, an experience to best any experience he’d ever experienced, especially with the multi-eyed amphibian whose limited consciousness he’d last inhabited. He really did like these people. But the leader, while often confused, was quite obstinate, and the lady was a tad too intelligent to fool very often.

With the speed of thought, Urgo left the pair to their just desserts, and concentrated his energy on the other pair. He’d come so close with the paddles, not that he wanted to hurt them, oh no, anything but that. But experience. Taste. Sweetness. If he could just get Teal’c to cooperate … hmm, now there was a thought.

As quickly as it occurred it was put into practice. Ah! Now, that was more like it!

 

It hadn’t taken much encouragement for Daniel to temporarily abandon his research for a game of chess with Teal’c. Teal’c simply walked in, set out the board, placed the pieces on the appropriate squares, and looked at him. Daniel surrendered with no protest. It was a quiet, thoughtful game for a short period of time. Then a radical change occurred.

One moment Teal’c was staring at the chess pieces, strategizing three moves ahead, enjoying the mental stimulus embodied in Daniel Jackson. The next, he had shoved the board out of the way, displaced Daniel from the chair and onto his own lap, and kissed him soundly, enjoying the stimulus provided by the physical embodiment of Daniel Jackson.

It was an unusual reaction for him to have had to that particular move. Perhaps it had been triggered by the interaction of the bishop and the knight.

Shrugging aside the possible motivations for his leap into action, to be examined at a later time, Teal’c applied his not inconsiderable technique to embracing Daniel on his lap, holding his head still, capturing his mouth and exploring it thoroughly while not allowing either of them to fall from the relatively unstable chair upon which they both now sat. It was a literal balancing act. Fortunately, Daniel was not attempting to impede his progress. In fact, Daniel appeared to be cooperating. Enthusiastically.

Which led to the not-unexpected side effect of the chair destabilizing completely. Warrior’s instincts came to the fore and without conscious thought Teal’c caught Daniel to him, rolling their bodies into a controlled fall and cushioning their landing without once breaking contact between their mouths. It was an impressive move, even for man renowned for impressive moves, and he allowed himself a single self-satisfied thought before returning to the task at hand.

Both hands.

Relegating to secondary importance, for the moment, the fact that his hands were rapidly and efficiently removing Daniel’s clothing, Teal’c categorized the variety of flavors he was currently tasting. Residual spices from the pumpkin pie earlier consumed, chicory from the coffee he’d also shared, a hint of mint from the toothpaste that had failed to eradicate the pumpkin, and a tinge of copper from the gum-line. A slip of the floss, perhaps. Strangely, there appeared to be a trace of jello flavoring. Blue flavor. There was a satisfactory resilience in the tongue pressing against his, and a firm slippery softness to the lips moving against his own. Overall, the impression he gained from his heightened sense of taste was that the kiss was … sweet. Definitely sweet.

A sweetness for which he was quickly developing a craving.

There were small sounds now issuing from approximately the vicinity of Daniel Jackson’s chest, but they did not appear to indicate distress. Quite the contrary. Daniel’s hands were now unfastening Teal’c’s clothing with the same alacrity with which Teal’c had denuded Daniel. The thought that he now had further areas to explore with his newly powerful taste buds struck Teal’c, and he regretfully abandoned the mouth to move over the curve of jaw toward the line of tendon along the side of Daniel’s throat. The wheeze of air above his head reminded him that the Tau’ri had lower lung capacity than Jaffa, and in future it would behoove him to allow Daniel to draw breath more often. It would do no good in the course of physical relations for the man to lose consciousness due to lack of oxygen.

A new taste feathered across his tongue, and logistical planning for future kisses was put on hold. At the base of Daniel’s throat was a hollow between collar bones, and it tasted of salt. The counter of salt to sweet was instantly addictive, and Teal’c spent some time at that point, sweeping with lips and tongue further up to remind himself of the sweetness of mouth, then down to the salt of skin along the upper torso. The timbre of sound issuing from Daniel’s chest changed as Teal’c went lower. It grew louder, became a rhythmic intonation approximating Teal’c’s name, and developed a rasping tone. An excellent sensory underscore to the taste. Teal’c approved.

A third complement to sound and taste was reached when Teal’c gripped Daniel’s buttocks in his hands and lifted his pelvis into reach of Teal’c’s mouth. The skin was warm and very soft, and the tensed muscles beneath it were quivering within the grasp of his fingers. The tension grew stronger as Teal’c lowered his head and tasted everything within reach. The rhythmic intonation broke, climbed an octave and sped up.

Hm. Even better. Daniel Jackson tasted of salt, sweet, sour, and oddly, of pumpkin pie. Then the muscles under his hands were spasming, and the flesh along his tongue was as well, and he swallowed as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the sheer volume of fluid defeated his intention of maintaining his taste categorization. Happily, satiation conspired to induce lassitude throughout Daniel’s body, and it was possible to taste what he’d missed the first time, cleaning it off the warm, salty skin with his tongue.

Incoherent noises a few feet above his head indicated approval.

 

Jack tucked into his fifth slice of pumpkin pie as if he’d never have another bite to eat as long as he lived. It was incredible pie, even better than kissing Carter. His entire body was reacting to the pie, scalp tingling, stomach tightening, toes curling. Weirdly enough, the pumpkin tasted salty. As he swallowed a huge bite of pie filling, he actually felt himself start to come.

Shocked him so much he nearly choked on his pie. Didn’t stop Little Jack from having an inappropriately high old time, though. He casually dropped his napkin in his lap and mentally thanked God for jungle camouflage. No way in hell he’d’ve gotten away with a stain like that in the ol’ fatigues.

Then Carter made the most bizarre noise, like a cow poked with a stick, or that scene in that movie when Meg Ryan was faking an orgasm… Jack’s brain froze. His eyes flickered over to Carter, bright red again but with the dumbest grin on her face. She was licking her lips. He stopped himself when he realized he was, too. The pie slowly fell from his fingers, splatting on the saucer.

It was so quiet in the mess hall he could’ve heard a pin drop. He glanced back at Carter. "Good stuff?"

"The best, sir," she answered, managing to keep a straight face.

"I meant the pie." He managed, too. Barely. This time he got the beginnings of a grin out of her.

"I think I’m developing quite a sweet tooth."

Thankfully before he could open his mouth and dig either one of them in deeper, Frasier’s voice came over the loudspeaker, calling them in to medical.

He grabbed another piece of pie on the way out the door.

_end_


End file.
